


Arc

by Arzg



Category: The Littlest Pet Shop
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Queer Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 21:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13509912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzg/pseuds/Arzg
Summary: Youngmee has a confession to make to Blythe that will shake her world. With a little meddling of some overbearing pets... well, commence the tears. And hugs. Mostly hugs. <3





	Arc

It was a perfect Saturday: clear sky, bright sun, the picturesque beginning to every Hollywood film. Blythe loosely held a leash, outside taking Zoe for a walk around Downtown City.

“I wish _every_ day were as perfect as this one,” Zoe proclaimed with a grin off Cloud Nine.

Blythe laughed. “So does everyone.”

Zoe stopped in the middle of the side walk to look back at her caretaker. Summoning her cutest countenance, complete with her species’s infamous puppy eyes, Zoe asked, “Though maybe you could make it a little _more_ perfect?” Her mouth slowly hung open, and a drip of saliva hit the ground, prompting Blythe to cringe.

Looking away from the ever growing puddle, Blythe smiled. “You know, Zoe, I’m in a good mood. Why not?” She ruffled through her purse, finding a treat, and threw it at the dog, who devoured it in an instant.

Satiated, Zoe scoffed, “Pah! Dog instincts, I didn’t even get a chance to taste it before swallowing.” Still, her ears expressively turned down once again. “But hey, now it’s in my tummy! A girl can’t complain, now, can she?”

“I guess not!”

They arrived at the public park near Littlest Pet Shop, where Blythe looked around to ensure the vacancy of the area, and unleashed the dog. For her part, Zoe sprinted off through the grass, ecstatic at her newfound freedom. In weather like this, she would have happy to chase her own tail, if it meant she could stretch her legs to do so.

Blythe nudged through her purse again, pulling out a tiny tennis ball, which she pelted out into the middle of the field. “Catch, Zoe!”

Sprinting off after the projectile, Zoe wagged her tail. _Thuh-dump_ , _thuh-dump_ , _thuh-dump_ , her paws bounced off as she leaped into the air in an ill-fated attempt at intercepting the toy mid-air. As the ball hit the ground, bouncing to a halt a few meters away, Zoe pranced to fetch it at rest, strutting out her runway walk in a show of what is proper for a canine.

She brought the ball back to Blythe, who contentedly threw the ball back for another iteration of the game. After a few rounds like this, there was an audible zoom of a bicycle, a tire screech, some chains clanking around and a _bang!_ against the bike rack, and eventually footsteps.

Blythe eyed her dog, gesturing towards her. “Come on, Zoe, there’s someone else coming; better put you on a leash just to make sure.”

Zoe rolled her eyes, complying with a grumble as Blythe strung a metal hook onto Zoe’s collar. “But _why_? You know I won’t hurt anyone!”

“Hey, we’ve talking about this before. _I_ know that you’re perfectly harmless, but, rules are rules!” Blythe shrugged, adding “And I’m a rule follower, Zoe.”

“Hmph!” Zoe lay down with a pretend expression of anger, although soon enough she rolled onto her back into the open sunlight, basking in its warmth. Leash firmly in hand, Blythe sat down on the grass next to her, petting her gently.

Blythe squinted, but after quickly ascertaining the identity of the newcomer as her best friend, she noted in relief to Zoe, “Oh, it’s not a police officer. Just… Youngmee Song.” She yelled out, “Hey, Youngmee!” With a shrug, she unhooked Zoe’s leash again, sure that Youngmee would not tattle. Zoe ran off to greet Blythe’s friend with a pile of kisses filled with enough dog slobber to gross out even the most committed of animal lovers.

Youngmee kneeled down haphazardly, relaxed by the dog’s presence. She mumbled, “Hi, Zoe.” Holding an envelope in her left hand, she pet Zoe with her free hand, evidently more for her own comfort than the dog’s, given the impatience of the pet. But finally, once they finished the extended greeting, the pair walked over to where Blythe was sitting.

“Hey, again, Youngmee!” Blythe repeated.

She replied back with a stammer, “H–hi, Blythe.” She curled her hair behind her ears, smiling as she did so. “I, um…” her smile faded into dullness. She grabbed her left arm with her right hand, biting her lip.

Blythe cocked her head and asked, “Are you okay, Youngmee?”

Youngmee nodded rapidly – or perhaps that was her head twitching in panic. The speed and volume of her breathing intensified. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no words spilled out, except the occasional pronoun or interjection.

Blythe wrapped her friend in a hug in an attempt to comfort her, whispering “You’re okay, Youngmee. You’re okay.”

To Blythe’s surprise, Youngmee pushed back against the well-intentioned physical contact, stifling another stream of incomprehensible vocalisation. She huffed out, “Not now, Blythe. Sorry. I just… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come. This was a bad idea. I’ll be going off. Sorry. Bye!” She slumped up, clenching her arm harder, her eyes wet.

Blythe chased after her, yelling out, “Youngmee, wait!” Fortunately, she did stop, and a moment later Blythe caught up. She held up a finger, gesturing “wait a little longer”, as she struggled to catch her breath. “You’re acting weirder than I did when I told you I could talk to animals. What’s up?”

Youngmee shut her eyes forcefully once more, grimacing like she was smelling a corpse, and sputtered out, “I’m gay, Blythe!” She covered her face with her hands, fearful of the inevitable reaction, fully cognisant of the ensuing ostracism, jeering, hatr—

Silence.

Blythe coughed. “That’s it?”

The tension in the air evaporated as Youngmee’s anxiety flipped into genuine confusion. Raising her eyebrow high enough to crash into her hairline, she asked, “What?”

“I just… you were so nervous, I was expecting something really bad. And, um…” Blythe blushed. “Well… the truth of the matter is….” She inhaled deeply and, mirroring the speed and nervousness of Youngmee’s own declaration, confessed, “I already knew.”

Blythe received a blank stare in response. “What?” Youngmee repeated.

Blythe twirled her hair idly with her finger, averting her friend’s gaze. “So, um, you know how I can talk to pets… pets like Buttercream… and um, how pets can sometimes go unnoticed by their owners… and, um, some pets like Buttercream don’t have very good judgement… and, um…”

Youngmee prodded in a low dark voice, “What happened?”

“I, um, I swear I didn’t ask. And I wish I didn’t hear. It’s not right. But, um, I was, um… feeling a little self-concious… about things… and Buttercream kind of blurted out that… um, that she say you… _you know_ ” Blythe coughed, her blush infuriating, although her cheeks were nowhere near as red as Youngmee’s.

“You, umm…”

“I’m really sorry, Youngmee. I… had quite the talk with Buttercream about personal privacy. Only she didn’t do much talking. But… I’m sorry this happened. I shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry for making things more awkward than they already were.”

Youngmee nodded solemnly, staring at her feet. “No, it isn’t your fault… doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Blythe mumbled out, “Well, at least now you know I’m not a homophobe?” She forced out a laugh, although her effort to thaw the situation was ultimately quixotic. Youngmee didn’t even seem to hear the remark, although nearly a minute after Blythe said it, her lips did curl up ever so slightly.

The duo stayed in awkward silence, unsure of how to proceed, until they were interrupted by Zoe’s barking.

Youngmee asked dejectedly, “What’s she saying?”

Blythe translated overrun with monotony. “She said she overheard the conversation in question. But she doesn’t think any other pets know, except possibly Pepper. She wants you to know your secret is safe with her. And that she thinks you and Blythe would make a cute couple – wait, what?”

Youngmee’s eyes widened in a mix of horror and confusion.

Blythe barked back, “Zoe, what are you _talking_ about?”

But before Blythe could get an answer, Youngmee was running away in panic, hopping onto her bicycle. There were some quickly rustling chains, and a moment later she was a blur with the wind. In her place she dropped an envelope, the same she had been carrying throughout the conversation. Blythe picked up, assuming it was dropped as a mistake, but indeed, the cover read in uncharacteristically flowery cursive:

 

> Blythe Baxter
> 
> For your eyes only

Zoe smirked, watching Blythe, stupefied.

“Zoe… what just happened?”

Zoe struck a model pose, ever so smug. “Let’s walk back to Littlest Pet Shop.”

Blythe mindlessly hooked back the leash onto the pooch and walked off, dazed, letting Zoe tug a meter ahead. Every so often, she glanced back down to the letter now held in _her_ left hand, the leash snugly wrapped around her right. “What could it possibly be?” Blythe wondered out loud. “And why was Youngmee being so weird about it?”

Zoe kept walking, her smirk only having grown since the beginning of the short walk back to the pet shop. “Oh, I couldn’t _possibly_ know. But I do have some ideas!” She extended the final word in a teasing, sing-song way.

Blythe stopped in her tracks. “Wait.”

Zoe stopped with her, her ear perking up in the direction of Blythe’s voice, and after a moment turning full around to face her walker. “Hmm?”

“Is it…?” Blythe blushed.

“Mmhmm” Zoe smiled with her nose stuck up in emulation of a high society dog enjoying caviar and tea.

Blythe resumed walking, this time with Zoe firmly by her side. The next few minutes were silent, except for footsteps and pawsteps, Soon enough, they arrived back at the day camp. Blythe called out without much emotion, “Hi Mrs. T.” She paused, attempting to portray the slightest notion of excitement to mask her underlying turmoil. “We’re back?” was the best she could muster.

She followed Zoe into the day camp, greeting the other pets as inexpressively as with Mrs. Twombly, and slumped onto the chair, defeated. She dropped the envelope onto her lap, address side up, and stared at it contemplatively.

Zoe groaned, “Ugh! Blythe, you’re ruining all the fun! Open it! Open it!” An actress of dubious spontaneity at heart, she quickly switched from her “impatient” face to her “too adorable to resist” face.

After this outburst, the other pets gained interest in the letter, too, exposing its recipient to a sea of unsolicited simultaneous advice.

“There’s fun going on without me? Let me join! I wanna know what’s going on!” complained Vinnie.

“Awwww, she got a letter. Who’s it from, Blythe?” asked Penny Ling.

“I wonder if it is a secret letter from an international spy agency recruiting her for her pet speaking skills,” hypothesised Sunil.

“Hah! I bet someone sent her glitter bomb!” chortled Pepper. “Not, ahem, that I’ve sent anyone any glitter bombs before,” she quickly added a little awkwardly.

“Show me, show me, show me, show me, show meeeee!” shouted Minka.

“Guys!” Russell exclaimed, somehow louder than the caffeine-addled monkey. Everyone hushed at once, save Vinnie, who continued to complain to himself for a few seconds before reading the situation. Once Vinnie quieted, Russell continued at his normal tone, “Guys, look how nervous you’ve made Blythe. It’s her letter. If she wants to share it, that’s her prerogative, but otherwise, we need to respect her privacy. And ears, for that matter.”

Blythe smiled to the hedgehog, at least with her lips if not her eyes. “Th–thank you” she stammered off under her breath, leaving the room in an unusual quiet.

Zoe showed no restraint with filling the silence, adding, “Yeah, the letter isn’t a big deal even. From what I gather, it’s just a bit of a confession from Blythe’s _best_ friend, Youngmee!”

Most of the pets were confused by this declaration, specifically at the enunciation on the _best_ in “best friend”. Vinnie interjected, “Yeah, they are pretty close,” elucidating absolutely nothing.

Blythe facepalmed. “Zoe, we aren’t – I mean we are – I mean I guess – I mean, gah! I love you all, but I just need some peace and quiet, okay?”

The pets collectively groaned in understanding and dispersed into the rest of the day camp, left to their own devices. Zoe stayed a moment longer than the others, but eventually, even she walked off slowly to pose in front of a mirror, leaving Blythe alone to space out staring at the letter.

Blythe held it up close to her eyes, examining the handwriting. _Definitely Youngmee’s_ , she thought. She flipped it over revealing a blank side, and having lost her mind, flipped it back over again, shocked when it revealed the same cursive as before. Finally, with resolve she peeled open the envelope, careful not to tear it and ruin the potential future keepsake. “Uch,” she groaned to herself. “It looks like it was licked shut. And not by a dog.”

Removing the letter from the envelope revealed a neatly folded, light pink rectangle. Unfolding that, Blythe found a standard-sized piece of stationary, dense with the same cursive from earlier, only much tinier. Clenching her jaw subconsciously, she squinted and began to decipher:

 

> Dearest Blythe Baxter,
> 
> It’s me, Youngmee – but you already knew that. You always seem to “just know”. Sometimes it’s because you’re so amazing and can talk to pets, but that’s not the gift I’m talking about. No, it’s just something about you, something… ethereal. You always manage to “just know” how to get out of a sticky situation or to calm down a friend in need.
> 
> I’m not like you, then. I never “just know” the answer. I have to contemplate my decisions for weeks, planning out all the possibilities, incessantly checking the online encyclopedia for any guidance. If something doesn’t matter, I can skip it. But when something does matter to me, at the bottom of my heart, to reach the right answer will take me an eternity.
> 
> If I “just knew” the answers – if I were as perfect as you, Blythe – then I could have written this letter out in one go. Better yet, if I had your grace, I could have told you this face-to-face, aided only by the comfort of looking into your eyes. But no, I’m weak. I present you the sixth written draft of this letter, although surely the words and thoughts were bouncing around in my brain for years before my pen ever touched the paper.
> 
> But maybe I shouldn’t fret over prose. An ancient writer once advised, “Get a grip on the content. The words will follow.” My preamble has been much ado about nothing, and I know that, but I am too emotionally attached to remove it. Given our friendship, that seems to be a common problem with my psychology. Not that I would ever admit such a blemish to myself; for all I pretend to diagnose everyone else with their mental problems, following the lead of my mother back home, I myself am the hardest patient I have ever met. Such is life – but I ramble, as usual. I ought to be blunt:
> 
> Blythe Baxter, you are my best friend in the world. I don’t know how I would live my days without you. I don’t know how I managed before I met you, but now that I know you, I can’t bear to imagine. You’re smart, you’re a great fashion designer, you can _talk to animals!_ , and frankly you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I’m lucky to have the honour of being called your best friend, even if I doubt that I deserve the title. Oh, and it helps that you are _super_ cute.
> 
> If you’re reading this letter, then either you’re a privacy invading creep (go away, Aunt Christie!) or I told you my own biggest secret. I’m gay. Hooray. It feels good to write that out on paper, even if I’m too embarrassed to tell people in real life. Even though my last name is literally “Song”, I don’t have a fancy guitar like you did when you told more your secret, but hey. Oh, for that matter, did I mention that you are an amazing musician and just hearing your singing voice makes me want to squee like I’m watching the Soul Patches perform? You’re full of wonderful surprises, Blythe. It seems every day I learn one more reason you’re awesome.
> 
> But that takes me the real reason I’m writing, which I imagine you can deduce by now. I like you. Like, I _really_ like you. And not just in a “best friends” kind of way. It’s more of a “ _best_ friends” kind of “like”. Gah, when you’re not feeling super awkward about your best friend having feelings for you – if you can even still think of me as a friend at all – remind me to rant about the ambiguity of the English language sometime.
> 
> I rewrote this letter so many times, and between each one, I asked myself, “do I really have to tell her?” You told me all the crazy thoughts you had about when you shared your animal talking secret with me, and those were just that – crazy thoughts. But… this is different. It’s personal. If the situation were reversed – if I were straight and you were gay and you were the one with a crush on me – I don’t know how I would react. But I know I have to tell you anyway. It’s only fair, and it does feel good to get this off my chest.
> 
> I love you, Blythe.
> 
> -Youngmee Song

For the first time around, Blythe’s eyes scanned through the passage quickly, in disbelief of what she was reading, despite Zoe’s hints. After reaching the bottom after an impossibly fast skim, she sighed. Hesitant, she crawled into the human-sized fire hydrant in the day camp, love note in hand, and crunched up into a little ball to reread at a much slower, more dignified pace. As the words streamed in and out of her mind, her eyes became noticeably wet. _Sniffle, sniffle_. She found herself crying by the end.

_If you can even still think of me as a friend at all_

The remark haunted Blythe. “You’ll always be my friend, Youngmee. Something as silly as this won’t change that,” she mumbled to herself, holding back tears.

She folded back the letter and placed it back into the envelope, careful to preserve the original creases, although she did not reseal it. Clutching the confession, she crawled out of the fire hydrant and walked over to the dumbwaiter, staring at her feet.

Zoe noticed the girl’s exit and called over to her, “Was I right about Youngmee?”

Blythe mumbled back, “Yeah…”

Zoe ignored the dark tone of the affirmation and responded singing, “I kneeew it!”.

Blythe climbed into the dumbwaiter and reeled her way up. Creek, tug, creek, tug, a moment later she was in her bedroom where she _splat_ face down on her bed.

A tear fell on the envelope.

And then another.

And then another.

There was a knock. “Blythie? Can I come in?” muffled a voice on the other side of the door.

She groaned ambiguously in response, and her father entered cautiously. “Are you alright, Blythie?” he asked, repeating his affectionate nickname for her, reserved for childhood and especially bad days.

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“Really? Your tissue box says otherwise.”

“Ugh, Dad…”

Her father, Roger, grabbed the nearly empty tissue box from Blythe’s side on the bed, held it up in front of him, and in an awful miming impression with equally bad voice acting, stated through it, “Blythe really just needs a hug!”

He replied to himself – err, his tissue box – in his normal voice. “Oh, okay.”

Blythe rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, hugging Roger affectionately. “You’re crazy, Dad.”

“Aww, thanks for the compliment!”

She ended the embrace and slumped back down onto her pillow. “I’m just… I don’t know.” She rolled over onto her side to face the dumbwaiter – and the letter – turning her back on her father. Roger watched for a moment in silence, pausing pensively. He eyed the letter, specifically the pink stationary bleeding through and the faint cursive outlines visible from his place on the other side of her room. Connecting the dots, he smirked. “Is this about a boy who likes you?”

Blythe sighed. “Something like that…”

Roger raised an eyebrow, reevaluating the letter and the overall femininity of the gesture. Raising an eyebrow, he asked again, “Is this about a girl?”

Blythe blushed as a matter of habit. Quietly, she mumbled back, “Yeah.”

Roger cleared his voice and went into serious father mode. “You know, Blythe, I’ve told you before, but I’ll repeat it now if I have to: I don’t mind if you’re straight or gay or bi or none of the above. Cis or trans, whatever – I love you for you, and you don’t need to hide who you are and who you love jus–”

Blythe rolled back over to face Roger again, grinning sympathetically. “Dad, it’s not that. I’m straight. I think. I don’t know. She’s not my girlfriend. She just… wishes she was. And wants to know if I feel the same way. Which I don’t. I think. Or maybe I do? I don’t know. I’m just… I don’t know. Wait. I said that already. What the huh?”

Roger smiled back in understanding. “I know how it is. Believe me, back in my day, every girl in school was pining for me and sending me flowery letters like that one.”

Blythe was caught between laughing and clenching her eyes, mortified. “Daaaaad!”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, it was mostly just Mom. But still, maybe I can help?”

Blythe nodded, propping herself up in bed, her tears mostly subsided out of distraction. “Maybe. I think I just need some time alone for now.”

He nodded back, leaving the room, and closing the door firmly on his way out. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

Blythe sat alone once again. She got up and pulled open one of her cabinets, revealing a stack of sentimental papers and photographs. She placed the envelope neatly on the pile, shuffled through it to find a photograph she shared with the letter’s author, and removed the photo in its place. She brought back the photo into her bed, where she looked at it in a dazed confusion.

Sniffle sniffle.

Swallowing her spit and her pride, she grabbed her laptop and messaged Youngmee:

 

> hi youngmee. i need you to know i’m not mad at you. and i don’t think you’re weird or anything. i’m a little surprised, i guess, but not mad. _hug_ i just… i guess i need to talk to you about it. about everything. can we meet up at the park again tomorrow?

Less than a minute later, the computer beeped back a reply:

 

> see you then. I… I’m sorry if I’ve made things awkward.

Blythe sighed and messaged back,

 

> don’t worry about it. see you soon :)

* * *

Blythe waddled alone to the park, without Zoe tugging on her from ahead to keep pace, in contrast to the day before. Still, the park was not far from her home above Littlest Pet Shop; she arrived in a few minutes and sat down in the same spot as the day before. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Inhale. Pause. Exhale. Pause. Repeat…

…

…

Footsteps interrupt her meditative bliss. Poking open her eyes, Blythe mumbled with a concerned smile, “Hi Youngmee.”

Youngmee avoided Blythe’s gaze. Meekly she replied, “Hi.” Sitting down in front of Blythe, Youngmee bit her lip and inquired in hopeful disbelief, “You’re really not mad at me?”

Blythe hugged her. “I’m really not mad at you.”

Youngmee eeped and broke off the hug, flustered. “So we can forget everything I said in the past twenty-four hours and go back to how things were?”

Blythe shook her head. “I care about you too much for that. I can’t just let my best friend, what, go back into the closet, just because I’m a little uncomfortable.”

“Your best friend…”

“My best friend.” Blythe smiled.

Youngmee stared out blankly, apparently lost in thought. Eventually she concluded, “But I guess this means this will never work out. Me and you, I mean… romantically, anyway. I guess as long as we stay friends, I’m still the luckiest girl in the world.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to say that. I… did some thinking last night. Some… serious self-reflection. And… I’m confused, Mee. Lost in my own emotions. I just… I need a best friend to talk about all this with, and normally, that friend would be you, but…” Blythe trailed off, losing herself to the same far away land that captured her friend’s attention. She leaned in for another hug, prompting Youngmee to blush vividly. The latter held her breath, and Blythe giggled at the cute awkwardness. She whispered, “Hey, if we were to become, you know, close, we would hug all the time. So get used to it!”

Youngmee released her breath and smiled, rolling her eyes dramatically. “You’re a good friend, Blythe.”

“You too.”

The conversation died off at this point – as if it were especially alive to begin with. “I should go,” one of them said, and she went. The other followed not too far behind.

* * *

School came and went the next day quietly; it was business as usual, and all was quiet. At lunch, Blythe ate with Jasper while Youngmee ate with Sue on the other side of the table, neither making eye contact except for some awkward forced interaction in classes. While they were in the presence of strangers, their personal predicaments were to be neither seen nor heard. The bell chimed six times, and Blythe walked her way to a designated meetup spot between the high school and her home in the city.

Armed with better transportation, her companion was already alone at a table, content with a book under his nose. Relieved already, Blythe sat down in front of Josh Sharp, and she waved. “Hey.”

Josh nodded curtly in acknowledgement. “I got your text to meet. What’s up, Blythe?”

She shrugged and looked vaguely up. “Nothing much. Just… thinking about somethings and… thought you might be able to help.”

“Did something happen?” he tilted his head, lowering his eyebrows in genuine concern.

She twiddled her thumbs, biting her lip. “Well…” She looked up at him, noticing the purity of his eyes, and gave in. “Okay, okay, yeah, I guess. Umm…” She fuddled through her bag to find her phone. She clicked a few buttons on the device for a moment and showed it to him, revealing his user page on a popular social network, zoomed into the pinned message.

 

> It’s National Coming Out Day! Here goes: I’m gay. I’m a guy, and I like guys. Always have. :tada: :rainbow: :rainbow_flag:

Blythe inquired, “Can I talk to you about that?”

He frowned, raising his shoulders. “Oh, no.” He covered his eyes with his hand. “I’ve taken a lot of flack for being out, but I never expected it from you…”

Blythe gasped, “No!” She reached out and rested her hand on his still-tensed shoulder reassuringly. “Not like that. To be clear, I don’t have a problem with you – or anyone else – being gay. That’s not the part I wanted to talk about. It’s… quite the opposite actually.” She sighed, noticing the interesting contours and strange details of her feet on the floor. “Can I ask something?”

His usual, casual smile returned as his shoulders dropped back down with the response. “Sure, Blythe.”

She paused, formulating the question exactly. “The post is so… confident. So… snappy and sure of yourself. And here I am wondering and thinking and… well, let me just ask this… how did you know?”

“Know I’m gay?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugged. “Well, I’ve always known I was a guy, so that part is easy. And then when I became a teenager, when everyone said boys would start to have feelings for their peers, that happened to me, too. Except I had feelings for another guy, not a girl. And since then, I’ve had feelings for a few more guys, but never once a girl.”

She raised both of her eyebrows. “Not even once?”

“Well, not counting _you_ for a few hours last Valentine’s Day, but that day was crazy.”

She blushed, muttering “Sugar Sprinkles” under her breath. After a pause, she nodded slowly. “What if you’ve never had feelings for anyone? How do you know what it’s even like to, well, like someone?”

He laughed. “I think you would know, Blythe.”

She bit her lip and asked, “Is it like when you get butterflies in your stomach from saying ‘I love you’, when you touch someone you want time to freeze, each time you’re with them you just feel amazing, and when you’re away from them you can’t get them out of your thoughts?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been watching a lot of movies, hmm? But yeah, that sounds about right. Bonus points if you think of them in not-safe-for-school contexts”, he added with a blush.

“Hey, hey, I do _not_ do that!”

He booped her on the nose, and retorted, “Sure, you don’t, Casanova.”

She rolled her eyes and did not comment further on the matter. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she tapped the floor and inaudibly mumbled, “Anywho!”

Josh eventually revived the conversation. “Sorry for being so blunt, but… are you bisexual, Blythe?”

“What the what?”

“I mean, clearly you like guys.” He pointed to his head from above with a smirk. “And apparently you like girls too, seeing as you came to me in the first place.”

“I guess…”

“So, you’re bisexual then, yeah?”

Blythe shrugged. “I mean, maybe?” She sighed. “I don’t know if I’ve ever _been_ in love at all. Was I in love with you? Infatuated, maybe? How do I know if this will be any different?”

Josh spoke vaguely, staring out in Blythe’s direction but never quite focusing on her. His words filled more with grief than with wisdom, he lamented, “Two or twenty, it doesn’t get any easier.” The remark was all too quiet for Blythe to hear crisply, but she nodded anyway, mirroring his grim countenance.

She hummed in agreement. Gripping her wrist, she continued, “It’s just… this is all happening so fast. I thought people take years to discover who they are” She squeezed her wrist tighter. “But me, I first realised I liked a girl Saturday evening.”

Snapping back into reality, Josh smirked and teased, “Ooo, so you’re admitting you do like her!”

Her demeanor softened, her anxiety replaced by a goofy smile. “If I have to…”

Lowering his eyebrows mischievously, he propped himself up and chanted, “Blythe and someone sitting in a tree. K-I-S–”

Blythe rolled her eyes, holding her hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. “Not funny, Josh!”

He shrugged, satisfied. “You’re right, you’re right, it isn’t funny.” Raising an eyebrow, he added, “But is it true?”

She whispered, blushing, “I wish.”

He smiled vicariously.

Sighing, Blythe worried, “I don’t want to start labeling myself. It sounds like something the _Biskits_ would do.”

He stuck his arms out, she nodded in consent, and they hugged. He whispered while holding her gently, “You never have to label yourself, Blythe. Just do what feels right.”

Blythe held her cheek with her hand. “Thanks, Josh.”

“No problem. Any other questions?”

She paused, looking up to the ceiling curiously, with a bit of a grin with her mouth held open. “So, you _really_ never, you know, liked me at all?”

“Sorry to disappoint. But hey, find me a Disney movie where Prince Charming _isn’t_ gay, and I’ll eat my skateboard.”

They shared a comfortable laugh.

Blythe smiled. “You’re a good friend, Josh… even if I guess neither of us really want to be more than that, huh?”

He shrugged. “You’re a good friend, too, Blythe.” He winked. “Good luck with this mystery girl, by the way.”

She giggled. “Thanks. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

He glanced at his wrist and grimaced. “I gotta run; there’s a meetup at the library in a few minutes. See you around?”

She nodded lightly. “See you around.”

In a daze, she walked home on auto-pilot, her eyes spaced out into the horizon. The beep from an anger city driver while she crossed on red passed from one ear to the other in a flash. She had walked this same route hundreds of times; it did not take even a smidgen of mental energy. All of her thoughts were out with her eyes across the horizon, somewhere deep inside the sunset.

The ensuing four hours were arduous for her to say the least. Upon arrival, she walked into the pet shop, and with a blank face greeted Mrs. Twombly. With an equally blank demeanor, she waddled into the day camp, greeting the pets with the same nothingness as before. When the hour demanded, she hastily poured kibble into the pets’ bowls. The pets dared to speculate on her sudden preoccupation, but despite Zoe’s incessant pestering, a response would not come: Blythe was too lost in her own thoughts, her own fears, her own fantasies. Finally, though the clock struck for her salvation. For the first time in hours, her emotion swept back into her as she darted next door to Sweet Delights, shouting back “Bye, pets! Bye, Mrs. T!”

Once outside the neighboring shop, Blythe wandered over next door to Sweet Delights. She entered to find her best friend, Youngmee, attending the register aimlessly, a book open under her nose, looking over a store that was conveniently void of customers. Although Blythe made a bit of a ruckus entering, Youngmee was either too engrossed in her novel to look up, or otherwise too distraught to bother. Blythe let out a vague, “Hey, it’s me.”

At the sound of the familiar voice, Youngmee looked up and cringed, letting the book close under gravity without bothering to place her bookmark. She attempted to smile, although the result was something closer to a weak lip spasm. No words spoken except a salutation and the girl was already blushing harder than when she met her favourite boy band in person.

Blythe approached the register, careful not to make the situation any more awkward than it needs to be, and Youngmee’s nervous cringing intensified as she grabbed her arm defensively, huddling down a bit to seem ever so slightly smaller and less threatening. Blythe extended her arms calmly, Youngmee nodded back a little aggressively, and they hugged in silence for a moment. Youngmee sighed. “Thank you,” she finally responded.

Stepping back, Blythe updated her… friend. “I had a talk with Josh Sharp this afternoon about his experiences. He’s, well, he’s gay and…”

Youngmee nodded quickly, “I know. I’ve seen him at the Downtown High GSA.” She waved her hands to a close, cutting off further unsure discussion of the matter.

“We have a GSA?” Blythe mumbled to herself.

She elaborated audibly. “Josh helped me sort through some of my feelings which… I could not have done alone. And… I’m still unsure of myself. This is all new to me. But still…”

Youngmee scrunched up her face. “Wait a minute. Are you also…?”

“Gay? No. I was madly in love with Josh himself, remember?”

Youngmee rolled her eyes, prompting Blythe to continue. “Maybe I’m bi. Or pan. Or something else. I don’t know really, and I don’t want to have to know.” She shrugged. “But something else Josh advised was that I don’t _have_ to know, at least not yet. I don’t need to settle on a word before I’m allowed to be myself. The gay police aren’t going to arrest me.”

Youngmee looked up contemplatively. “Well, the _gay_ police maybe not, but even in the near past, the regular ones very well might have, depending on how much of a threat you were perceived to be and a number of other sociopolitical factors. Look at the interaction during the Stonewall riots…”

Blythe cocked her head. “What the huh?”

She shrugged. “I’ll send you the relevant Wikipedia pages. Everyone should know a bit about our history,” she elbowed Blythe grinning, “and maybe it’s _our_ history, too.”

“Alright… Well, point is, I guess maybe I like girls too. More specifically, _a_ girl.” She raised her eyebrows seductively, giggling.

Her _best friend_ ’s eyes widened. “Are you saying that you…?”

Blythe put on a goofy grin, her lip curling in adorkably. “Like you? Mmhmm.”

Despite her attempts to hide it with her hand, a pure smile was growing on Youngmee’s face. Innocently, she asked, “So, I guess now we’re girlfriends?”

Blythe opened her to mouth to say “Y–” when she stopped herself, confusion brewing. “Girlfriends,” she whispered to herself. “ _We’re_ girlfriends.” She lowered one eyebrow. “Me… with a… girlfriend?” She raised the other. “Weird.” she shuddered.

Youngmee asked a little concerned, “Blythe, are you alright?”, stretching out the vowels in “Blythe” and “alright”.

Blythe returned to smiling. “Yeah. I’m just… this is all so new to me. Yeah, I guess we are… girlfriends.”

Youngmee squeed. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”

Blythe tucked a lock of hair behind her ears, her eyes a little dreamy staring at her squealing girlfriend. “I love you, Youngmee. You’re my… _best_ friend” she winked.

“I love you too, Blythe.”

They hugged affectionately.

Noses touching.

Unashamed smiles.

Eyelashes touching.

Unashamed giggles.

Lips touching.

For each her first time—

“Ah, Mee-Mee finally got her wishy washy wish wash come true to the doodle doo!”

In the unison the pair of girls shouted back at their unwanted visitor.

“Buttercream!”

**Author's Note:**

> Licensed under the CC BY-SA 4.0. Spread free culture!


End file.
